


Ouch

by HappinessIsBlau



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen, Gore, Other, basically Boss is trying to hold in Johnny's guts with their hand while shooting at the Ronin ok, descriptions of disembowelment, one sided Boss/Johnny, this is riiiight after Aisha gets decapitated too so that's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappinessIsBlau/pseuds/HappinessIsBlau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s bleeding everywhere and you have your hand basically in his guts and all you can think about is how you’d curl up and die without him and how sweet he looks in pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouch

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if you know this, but I really like gore. Boss's reaction is basically what my reaction was to playing this mission, and a little bit of creative licence. Boss isn't given a gender here because I wanted to leave that up to the reader and avoid any cissexist language. 
> 
> THIS STORY CONTAINS GUTS. IT ISN'T GRAPHIC BUT IF YOU DON'T LIKE GORE, PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THIS CONTAINS GORE.

He’s bleeding everywhere.

He’s bleeding everywhere and you have your hand basically in his guts and all you can think about is how you’d curl up and die without him and how sweet he looks in pain. 

God, you’re disgusting. 

He’s panting now and his glasses have slipped down his nose and you kiss his temple before you take a poorly-aimed potshot at a Ronin Lieutenant from your place beside him. 

He’s got a fever or some shit, you don’t know, but it’s probably from the blood he’s lost. The blood that you’re trying (in vain) to hold in with your hand against his stomach. 

“Aisha,” he all but whimpers and you feel your heart drop. 

You wish you could’ve saved her, she was so, so important to him. He might have bitched about her constantly but you know that he loved her dearly, and as an oath to her, you promise that you’ll keep him safe. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” you say to him and he looks at you but he’s worlds away. You can’t stand to see him like that, with that vacant and sad and distant look in his eyes so you just take another shot at a Ronin, ducking as a barrage of bullets are a return-courtesy from them. 

You’re hoping the Lieutenant driving the car, a kid by the name Roger Morrow, he’s a sweetheart with a boyfriend who’s in the Saints too, doesn’t really notice when you yank open Johnny’s shirt (to take a better look, of course) like you’ve done it a thousand times. 

You’re hoping that the Lieutenant in the passenger's seat, a girl named Mindy Matthews who’s got two wives and a sugardaddy with a house in the suburbs, doesn’t notice when you push the palm of your hand probably tighter than you need to against Johnny’s abdomen.

And you’re praying that neither of them notice that when he gasps and coughs up a little blood your face turns red and a guilt-inducing amount of heat just rushed between your thighs.

“Are we almost there?” you bark at Roger and he nods quickly, “Yeah, Boss! One more block, I’m gettin’ there as fast as I can,” and Mindy adds, “You’d think the fuckin’ police’d try to stop the shitbags shooting at us,” as she leans out the window and offs a Ronin from his motorcycle. 

You’re too preoccupied with keeping your cool or you’d agree or highfive her for the shot or something.

Right now, you’re just too angry at yourself for getting your friend hurt and getting off on it.


End file.
